Star Trek: Cardassian Galaxy

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Paramount Studios and the estate of Gene Roddenberry own copyright of all things Star Trek. The original plot is my own as are any characters created specifically for this story. 

'I'm glad that our cuisine is to your liking', the voice just behind him startled Worf, galvanizing him into action. 'Ah, Deanna, may I, er..' he floundered out of his depth. Kurn observed the interaction, amused. He spoke. 'Counsellor Troi, I presume', he responded, overtly becoming excessively charming at his brother's expense, 'Please, sit. Join us', Troi sat, accepting the offer, 'Excuse my brother's actions. He is not as accomplished a diplomat as I. I am Kurn, Worf's younger brother. He has told me much about you!' 

Deanna turned to Worf. The look of extreme panic on his face made her look away swiftly. His pride would be irrevocably harmed if she burst out laughing now. And yet, she felt unable, unwilling to allow this wonderful opportunity to pass unanswered. 'Really?' She responded, leaning forward conspiratorially, 'such as..?' Worf could stand no more. 

'Enough!' He thundered, 'Kurn be silent, please', the tone of the final word almost begging. In response Kurn threw back his head and bellowed. A huge belly laugh erupted, seemingly all the way from his boots. Worf regarded them both darkly from beneath his huge brow. Then slowly, his eyes twinkling, the corners of his mouth curled up. Soon they were all sharing the joke, laughing until their sides ached. 

'Kurn, you will pay for this', Worf promised darkly, 'One day you will wish to take a mate, and I will remind you of this day. In her presence, of course.' At this point Captain Picard, with Riker following hard on his heels joined them. The sounds of a party had not gone unnoticed, and Riker was never one to miss a party. 

'Meeting the in-laws, Deanna?' He inquired sweetly. The scene froze, his reply becoming the attention, seemingly not too friendly of three individuals. Two of them large Klingon males he noted belatedly. Yet Will felt more threatened by the third, the Betazoid female. He cleared his throat nervously, 'Just joking', he offered lamely. They responded, by once again bursting into laughter. Riker gave in and joined them. Picard waited patiently for them to end. Then gave his greeting. 

'Captain', responded Kurn, 'It is once again an honour to serve with you. My forces are at your disposal. What do you need of us?' Direct, typically Klingon. Picard responded in kind, 'We need your expertise in locating a particular cloaked ship', 'The rogue Galaxy', growled Kurn. Picard nodded, 'Yes. In addition, we may require your assistance in dispatching it, and any allies they may be able to call upon.' 

'I believe that there is some question as to the origin of the cloaking device being used by the Cardassians. I have a theory about that', Kurn offered, 'The Duras' '. Picard regarded him sceptically, 'With all due respect Kurn. The sons of Mogh are known for their hatred of the Duras family. I would need some kind of evidence to support that kind of supposition before I..' 

'Agreed', cut in Kurn, 'our hatred of them is well known. Then here is your evidence. I discovered that, on my way here, a K'tinga class cruiser was lost in battle six weeks ago. But that the cloaking device onboard was missing after its recovery. The battle was in the Altair system. And one of the Duras was seen on Altair III less than two months ago. If they got hold of that cloak, they may have bargained with the Cardassians for a collaboration, to put them in command of the High Council after successful completion of the mission. And if that happened, they would agree an alliance against the Federation. 

I don't need to tell you that with legitimate aid from the Cardassians, even the aid of my squadrons would not be able to restore Martok to power. The entire balance of power throughout this sector would be irrevocably altered!' 

Picard grimaced, for he knew that Kurn was right. If he was correct that the Duras' family were behind the Cardassian acquisition of a cloaking device, then he was almost certainly right about the consequences of that action. And that didn't bear thinking about. But how to proceed. A memory triggered in his head, 'Lieutenant, did you and Mr. Data ever come to any agreement on that matter we discussed earlier? I know I gave you until 1600 hours, but now would be a good time.'